Innocence and Experience
by Louise Lux
Summary: Aziraphale knows something that Crowley doesn't. Slash, CrowleyAziraphale


Title:Innocence and Experience  
  
Author:Louise Lux  
  
Fandom:Good Omens  
  
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale  
  
Rating:[R]  
  
Archive: The Booze Fuh-q-fest and my site, others please ask.  
  
Disclaimer: Not my characters, and I make no money from using them.  
  
Note:Written for T'Boy's Booze Fuh-q Fest. Many, many thanks to Ellen Fremedon and to Daegaer for inspiration and excellent advice.   
  
Innocence and Experience  
  
***  
  
Crowley was staring at him open-mouthed.  
  
'Whatever is the matter with you, my dear? It's not beyond the bounds of possibility is it?' Aziraphale asked, blushing hotly.   
  
It wasn't that unexpected, surely. He hadn't quite expected Crowley to be so surprised, and the dumb-struck expression was lasting a little too long for comfort.   
  
'Not really,' said Crowley eventually, shaking his head. He gulped a large mouthful of whisky. 'Wow. I just never thought, er, that you would.' He picked distractedly at the loose threads on the shabby armchair. 'Was it, er? Did you? With a human?'   
  
Aziraphale crossed his arms self-consciously. 'With a woman, yes.'  
  
'Oh. A woman? Really?  
  
'What?'  
  
'Nothing. Was she, um, nice?'  
  
'Very nice.'  
  
'Right.'  
  
Crowley went back to his drink; Aziraphale watched him carefully over the rim of his glass, waiting for the inevitable.  
  
'What was...?'  
  
'Can we...?'   
  
They both spoke at the same time. Aziraphale sighed. He wasn't going to get out of this conversation very easily.   
  
'Sorry,' Crowley said, gesticulating with his glass and spilling whisky on his trousers, 'you carry on.'   
  
Aziraphale poured them out another large drink and hoped for the best. 'I was just going to say could we drop the subject, please?'   
  
'No way. I want to know everything.'  
  
'Crowley!'  
  
'OK, OK, we'll drop it. Just tell me one thing.'  
  
'All right, one thing.'   
  
Crowley looked thoughtful for a minute and then he asked, 'What did it feel like?'  
  
'What did what feel like?'  
  
'You know, it. Sex.'  
  
Aziraphale stared at him blankly, and then realisation dawned.   
  
'You mean you... Oh. Oh right. So you've never, er, you know, done it?'   
  
It was Crowley's turn to look self-conscious. Aziraphale's surprise turned rather swiftly into amusement.  
  
'No. And stop smirking like that, it doesn't suit you. Bastard.'   
  
Crowley glared into his glass.   
  
'It doesn't matter you know. No one's going to think the less of you.' Aziraphale's shoulders were shaking with laughter.   
  
'Fuck off.'  
  
'Yes, quite. Never mind, my dear. Have another drink.'   
  
*  
  
He had been determined that he wasn't going to let it bother him. So Aziraphale knew something he didn't. That was just fine. No reason to get competitive about it. But the idea niggled at the back of Crowley's mind. He ignored it as best he could, and he swore to himself that there was no way he was going to ask the angel anything about it. Ever.   
  
'So, Aziraphale,' Crowley enunciated with great concentration, interrupting the angel's long and rambling story about some boring book or other, 'have you done it recently?'   
  
It was some weeks later and they were in the angel's back room again, sprawled in Aziraphale's battered armchairs. The meal had been lengthy, many bottles of wine had been drunk, and more alcohol had seemed like a very good idea. He realised that Aziraphale was staring at him.   
  
'Done what?' Then, 'Oh no. I thought we weren't going to discuss it anymore. You promised.'  
  
'Can't blame me for being interested, can you? Never tried it. Not like you.'  
  
It was true, Crowley realised, he was interested, and for a reason that, at the moment, seemed to elude him. He looked over at Aziraphale, whose skin had flushed pink, whether from wine or conversation Crowley couldn't tell. Funny, he'd never noticed until recently how often the angel did that.  
  
'So, what happened with her?'  
  
'Who?'  
  
'You know, your lover.' The words sat uneasily together in his mind, but he swept the thought aside.  
  
'What d'you think? She died.'  
  
'Oh. Of course. Sorry.' Crowley paused, dimly aware that the conversation had taken a sudden downturn. He carried on. 'No, what I meant was, was it just once, or,' Crowley paused again, groping for the right phrasing and failing, 'or a lot?'   
  
'We had a few years together. She died young. I never bothered again, after that. Never really been interested enough.' Aziraphale stared pensively into his glass.   
  
'Oh.'   
  
They sat in silence for a while, and Crowley drank some more for good measure, wondering how he could get Aziraphale to spill the beans.  
  
'So, what was her name?'  
  
'It doesn't really matter,' Aziraphale said, with a sigh.  
  
'When was she, er, when did you? Was it a long time ago? Did you live with her?'  
  
It can't have been that recently, Crowley thought. He was sure that he'd have noticed if Aziraphale had been shacked up with someone.   
  
Aziraphale just looked at him and sipped his drink in manner that said ishut up/i. Crowley realised that he really didn't want to.  
  
'Aziraphale... '  
  
'Look,' Aziraphale interrupted him, 'you could go away and try it, and then you could stop pestering me to tell you about it.'   
  
Alcohol surged triumphantly through all points of Crowley's brain, making some very persuasive connections with the idea that had been lurking patiently in the background.   
  
'Aha! You're wrong y'know. Not tell, exactly.' He lurched upright, making Aziraphale jump. 'I want you to show me!'  
  
He watched in fascination as Aziraphale coughed up a surprising amount of wine.  
  
'What?' Aziraphale managed to choke out after a few moments. 'D'you mean what I think you mean? Me? With you? Er.'   
  
Crowley watched Aziraphale's eyes widen. He couldn't tell if it was with shock or horror, but he was sure they'd get round it, whatever it was. He nodded encouragingly.   
  
'Now look here. It really was a long time ago and, and,' Aziraphale floundered.  
  
'Why not? M' nice looking aren't I?' Crowley said, getting up and swaying towards Aziraphale.  
  
'Well, yes, you are, but, you're, you're you. Crowley. I mean. I mean. It'd be, just, odd,' the angel concluded, shrinking back in his chair as Crowley approached.   
  
'What's wrong with odd? Odd's fine. You're odd. Anyway, m' nice-looking, got my own car. You're lucky, really. Could do a lot worse.'   
  
'No, absolutely not.'  
  
*  
  
Crowley had insisted that they go back to his place, which was only sensible because Aziraphale didn't have a bed. The trip in the Bentley had been even scarier than usual, and Aziraphale was starting to wonder if this was a good idea. It had seemed an increasingly attractive proposition when he'd found himself backed into a corner by a very inquisitive Crowley, and he'd realised that it really had been an extremely long time. He gazed around Crowley's stylish bedroom, feeling very out of place.  
  
'We should sober up really; otherwise you won't get the full effect. I don't want to have to repeat myself.'   
  
Crowley's face fell a bit at that, but Aziraphale ignored the twinge of guilt. Well, it was his own fault; Crowley was the one who wanted this. They both winced and staggered slightly.   
  
'There, that's better. Far more conducive to intimate relations.'   
  
Aziraphale tried a cheery smile, but couldn't help but notice that his words had made Crowley wince again.   
  
'Right, so, er.' Crowley was at a loss as to how to continue.  
  
'You're quite sure that you want to do, um, it, then?' Aziraphale asked.   
  
He eyed the demon doubtfully. He didn't look particularly like he wanted to do it, as far as Aziraphale could tell, and he didn't want to go to all the bother of getting in the right mood and taking his clothes off, if Crowley was just going to change his mind.   
  
'Of course I bloody well want to do it. I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise, would I?'  
  
'No need to snap, my dear. No, I suppose not.'   
  
There was an uncomfortable silence.  
  
'Right.' Crowley ran his hands distractedly through his hair. 'So, we, um. What now?'   
  
Aziraphale thought for a moment. Something vital was missing. Oh yes. He carefully hung his jacket on the back of the chair, closed his eyes very briefly, and remembered. He thought of sex, and how he wanted to feel all the things a human felt, to have all the needs a human had. He caught his breath as it all came back to him, and his heart began to pound.  
  
'Well, I'm ready,' Aziraphale lied, clasping his hands together primly. Clasping them, he had to admit, a little too hard.   
  
'You don't look ready. Aren't you forgetting something?'  
  
'Eh?'  
  
'Clothes, angel.' Crowley scowled.   
  
*Oh dear*, thought Aziraphale. This wasn't going very well at all. He took a deep breath as a thousand long-forgotten sensations tingled across his skin, and tried to relax. Everything was so distracting. The room was too cold, his clothes were suddenly uncomfortable, and far too tight, and to cap it all when he looked at Crowley he became aware of an ache that seemed to start in his toes and finish somewhere at the tips of his hair. He didn't remember it being quite like this before.   
  
'Perhaps we should start slowly, er, with a kiss. It's quite traditional.' He saw the look of horror dawning on Crowley's face, 'or not,' he continued hurriedly. 'We can just get undressed, then.'   
  
He quickly bent his head and tried to concentrate on his shirt buttons. He glanced up in time to see Crowley's clothes vanish.   
  
'Oh.'  
  
He looked very good. Good enough to eat. Aziraphale couldn't help staring. Crowley blushed so hotly that Aziraphale could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. Warm, Crowley-scented air twined itself in tendrils around his nose, sending him slightly off-balance.  
  
'You could bloody-well get a move on, you know,' Crowley said, diving under the covers. He lay staring at Aziraphale with just his head poking out from under the blankets.   
  
Aziraphale couldn't remember taking the rest of his clothes off, just a steady yellow gaze that was practically burning a hole though his skin. Abruptly he wondered if Crowley found him attractive, and was immediately struck with a horrible awareness of his own body. *Surely he'll see past all the outer trappings*, Aziraphale thought, a little desperately.  
  
'If you don't hurry up and get in, I'm going to have to get out of bed and kill you, you do realize that don't you?'   
  
Crowley's voice didn't really fit with his words; it was lower than it usually was, with a definite tremor. Well, Crowley was probably nervous. First time and all that. Aziraphale finally peeled off the last of his clothing, wishing his own palms would stop sweating, and that his heartbeat would slow down a bit. He took a deep breath.  
  
'Sorry,' he said, advancing slowly towards the bed.   
  
It seemed to take a long time to get there, what with Crowley watching him so intently with his suddenly-mesmerising eyes. He had the most peculiar sensation that he was outside his body, observing the unfamiliar, naked Aziraphale. There he was folding back the covers and getting into bed with Crowley. There was Crowley, lying back on the pillows and breathing too quickly. There they were, lying side by side. The sheets were cold too. He shivered a bit and pulled the blankets up to his chin. Crowley turned to him impatiently.  
  
'Well? Are we just going to lie here?' Crowley's eyes were yellower than ever and he looked a bit twitchy.   
  
'Er, no, of course not. There's no hurry, is there?'   
  
The mattress dipped. Crowley's quick breaths gusted in his ear, and he shivered from head to foot.   
  
'Yesss,' Crowley hissed, reaching for him.   
  
*  
  
'No, not like that,' a pause, 'more like this.'  
  
'Like that?'  
  
'Yes. No. Ow! Stop, quickly, stop. Oh, this isn't working!'  
  
'Sorry.' Crowley pulled back in frustration and looked down in puzzlement at Aziraphale, who was sprawled in an ungainly heap on the bed. 'I thought you said you'd done this before?'   
  
'Well, loosely speaking, yes. Get off. I'm very uncomfortable,' Aziraphale's voice floated up, muffled by the pillows.   
  
He rearranged himself more comfortably on the bed, wincing slightly. Crowley settled down next to him and twined his arms round the angel's waist. Skin was a marvellous invention, really. He couldn't seem to get enough of Aziraphale pressed up against him. He wriggled closer.  
  
'Sorry. I haven't done this very much, you know,' Aziraphale admitted at last, sounding more irritable than apologetic.   
  
Crowley made a soft humming noise in his throat and pulled back a little, so that he could peer into Aziraphale's eyes.  
  
'I never exactly had you pinned as the world's greatest lover,' he said, grinning.   
  
'I have a perfectly adequate knowledge of the necessary, er, techniques,' Aziraphale said huffily, frowning at him.   
  
Crowley raised his eyebrows.   
  
'Oh yeah? That's not what it looked like just now.'   
  
He wriggled against Aziraphale some more, testing the effect.   
  
'Look, I'm not the one who's never done it before, all right? You were the one who was so keen on this, not me,' he said waspishly, struggling out of Crowley's arms. 'Don't blame me if you can't do it properly.'  
  
'Well, you seemed to be more than eager back there, so I can't have been doing that badly.'   
  
There was a pause while they glared at each other.   
  
'I'm sorry, but do you want to do this or not? It was your idea, after all. We really should be concentrating, otherwise what's the point?'   
  
'I am concentrating, you're the one with the performance problem.'   
  
'I should never have agreed to this in the first place,' Aziraphale snapped, shoving Crowley off and sitting up.   
  
Crowley had to admit that the conversation wasn't really keeping things going in the right direction. He shut his eyes and lay back, thinking. No one spoke for several long, awkward minutes. Eventually Crowley reached out to trail his fingers slowly down Aziraphale's spine.   
  
'It was good, what you were doing before,' he said softly. 'Before we tried the other thing. I mean, it was really good. Can we just do that?'   
  
There was no response so he reached out and dragged Aziraphale to his side, and the angel let himself be pulled close. Crowley put his lips to Aziraphale's ear, liking the shivers it produced.   
  
'Show me how you do that thing again,' he murmured, remembering to let his tongue flick the inside of Aziraphale's ear.  
  
'What thing?' Aziraphale asked, rather breathily. 'You'd better remind me.'   
  
Crowley slid his hand between their bodies and stroked carefully.  
  
'Oh...that,' Aziraphale managed to gasp.  
  
Soon after, Crowley was hopelessly lost in a tangle of kisses and the press and slide of skin on skin that seemed to go on for ever. He surfaced eventually with Aziraphale on top of him, flushed and panting. The angel smiled devilishly.  
  
'I rather think you're getting the hang of this now.'  
  
*  
  
'So that was it,' Crowley said.   
  
Aziraphale bit his lip and looked over, anxiety creasing his brow.  
  
'Er. Did you, um, like it?'   
  
Crowley turned on his side to look at him. 'Does that always happen?'  
  
'Does what always happen?'  
  
'You know, at the end, the big crescendo?' Crowley waved his hands in the air to illustrate.   
  
It had been very amusing watching him discover that, and the mopping up process afterwards.   
  
'Oh.' Aziraphale smiled, 'Yes, mostly. It's sort of the whole point. Apart from babies, obviously. Sometimes it doesn't happen.' He remembered a long-ago stream of complaints, and some angrily delivered lessons on the female anatomy.   
  
'I think it has quite a lot to do with how you're feeling at the time, and skill as well.' He eyed Crowley warily, but Crowley just smiled and nodded back at him. 'For humans it's a bit like it is for us; they have to make an effort too sometimes. It's not all plain sailing, this sex thing.'  
  
'No. I can see that.'   
  
Crowley looked thoughtful for few minutes, and Aziraphale couldn't help noticing that Crowley looked much nicer when he was relaxed; the sharp angles of his face seemed softened and his eyelids drooped lazily, like a cat's.   
  
'So, you always have one, do you, a thing?'  
  
'They're called orgasms, and, well, yes. Usually.'  
  
'Oh.' Crowley went back to gazing at the ceiling. 'So, what happens after this?'  
  
'Um, well, from what I remember, you each say to the other what a nice time you had and perhaps you hug, too.'   
  
Aziraphale thought that it didn't sound like very much, when you put it like that. He remembered the whole after-thing being rather addictive at the time, almost as good as the sex. He looked over at Crowley doubtfully. He didn't particularly look like he wanted to embrace or swap compliments, and Aziraphale definitely wasn't going to be the first to suggest it. In fact, he thought it was probably a good idea to get up and just bypass the whole tricky area, but as he swung his legs out of bed Crowley lunged at him and pulled him back, pinning down his shoulders and then sitting on him for good measure.  
  
'Crowley, what are you doing?' He yelped, wriggling.   
  
'Where do you think you're going?' Crowley smiled suggestively. 'I haven't finished with you yet.'   
  
*  
  
'D'you think we should get up?' Aziraphale asked drowsily, his face buried in Crowley's neck.  
  
'Probably,' Crowley replied, yawning.   
  
He was almost too relaxed to move, but they ought to get up, really. Crowley wasn't sure what time it was, or day. Or month actually, come to think of it. They hadn't got out of bed for a very long time.   
  
'Suppose we should get back to work,' he said, running his hand gently down Aziraphale's side until he reached the ticklish bit and squeezed. The angel jumped.  
  
'Mmph,' Aziraphale mumbled, slowly extricating his limbs from Crowley's and sitting up.   
  
He looked quite comical, with his hair sticking up in all directions. At the back it was all tangled into knots, just like Crowley's. He slid his fingers into Aziraphale's hair and it fell smooth again. Then he yawned again, hugely. Time had certainly gone by in bit of a blur since they'd first got into bed. Aziraphale had dredged up quite a surprising number of things from his memory, and Crowley had nearly always demanded repeat performances, just to make sure that he'd absolutely got the hang of it. They'd also come up with a few inventions of their own, of which Crowley was rather proud. He definitely wanted to try them out again one day. Apart from the time in the sitting room. He hadn't liked that much; it felt like the pot plants were mocking him. But everything else had been good. It really was quite an addictive pastime. Probably as good, if not better, than driving the Bentley very fast down a very busy road, and Aziraphale seemed to enjoy it more too. A thought struck him. He prodded the angel in the ribs.  
  
'So. That went well, I thought.'   
  
'Stop poking me.' Aziraphale said, swinging his legs over edge of the bed. He paused as he did and looked warily at Crowley. 'You're not going to jump on me again, are you?'   
  
Crowley just smiled and shook his head. 'Too knackered. But it did go well, didn't it?'   
  
Aziraphale shot him a knowing glance and got up. 'Crowley. I know what you're after.'  
  
'No you don't. What?'  
  
'You want to know if you were better. I like to think I know something of the human, and demon, ego.'  
  
'Well?' He stared after Aziraphale's retreating back, now clad in a brand-new woolly tartan dressing gown.   
  
'Oh, my dear,' Aziraphale said, smiling, over his shoulder, 'there's really no comparison.' 


End file.
